SteinHis Reasons
by A Pessimistic Optimist
Summary: Who can say that they truly know Dr. F. Stein? What caused him to be the way he was today? His past is revealed in graphic detail, rated M mostly for child abuse and blood/gore. Probably will have no pairings, just Stein's feelings he can't express.
1. The Beginning

_A lot of people ask me why I have a screw in my head, why I did it and if it's even real. Of course it's real and you'd be surprised twisting it actually relaxes my experimented-on body. They all say I'm crazy; that I am just an insane scientist, but if they only knew the truth..._

It burned. I could feel the bright green liquid enter painfully through my bloodstream by his rather large injection needle. Closing my eyes tightly, I wished for nothing more than sleep, the thing this man barely allows me to do. Scratching noises. I know he's writing my reactions onto his cold, metal clipboard that only his eyes can see. This man always does it after experimenting one of his creations on me. Gasping, my eyes snap open as I curl into myself, my stomach lurching and seeming to twist within me causing such immense pain I could not even scream. Sweat drips down my pale face as I gag in my own saliva, barely being able to swallow now. The man moved too fast for me to see what he got, but searing pain entered the side of my neck seconds later before everything blurred...slowly turning into blackness...such a distasteful color...

Silence. It echoed into my ears as I forced my dull eyes to open. A quick glance around made it clear I was alone, but when I tried to sit up something stopped me. I glared slightly up at the dirty ceiling already knowing that my ankles and wrists were chained down to the man's operation table. Never was I lucky enough to be able to move about while he was gone, he wanted me to stay here and be his little lab rat until the day he killed me. I shifted some, letting out a small hiss as I felt the freezing restrains brush deeper into my nearly white flesh. _What day is it now? I've lost count so many times, I wonder how old I am now...do I look any different than the last time I saw myself...at age five?_

Dazing in and out I think of nothing and everything at once. So many different emotions fill me as I think of my mother. _What was her name, do I look like her at all? Is she laughing at her only son somewhere above me? Or perhaps she regrets dying to give me life after nine long months of carrying me? ...Did she ever care about me or did she wish I was the one who had died instead?_

Clicking of multiple locks. Handle turning before the creaking door opened. He's back, I know this at once, he is the only one that ever comes down to see me. Glancing over I see short, silver locks above glasses too big for his narrow face along with his usual smirk and bloodied lab-coat. I stare at the scalpel resting in his right hand as he slowly walked over, barely applying pressure at the collar of my shirt. It easily tore the fabric and as much as I wanted to struggle I just stared at the little pieces of thread coming undone as the sharpened scalpel cut my shirt; my pale chest soon illuminating from the lights shining down upon me.

I shiver, looking up at this scientist, who in return was staring down at me. My eyes couldn't help but widened as my reflection showed for a couple of seconds in the man's glasses. _No...it was not possible! There is no way I look like that...just like the man hovering above me..._

The man smirked even wider at me when he took notice of my slightly fearful expression. Feeling the cool blade gently scrape my bare chest I couldn't help but try to bury myself into the operation table, yet this man just chuckled. Almost gracefully, he slashed right down the middle of my chest as I slammed my head into the back of the table, letting out a howl of agony as I felt the warmth of my blood trickle from the fresh wound. I writhed beneath him as my teeth dug into my lower lip, I would not allow this scientist the pleasure of my ragged screams. I barely registered the fact my eyes were full of unshed tears until I thrashed my head almost painfully to the side, salt water making its way quickly down my face. Every small cut to every deep stab I could feel this man's scapal carving into my skin like it was paper for him to draw on with a crimson pen know as my blood. My wrists and ankles soon bruised against the pressure my restraints held on them as I thrashed about. Trying to keep my voice inside I allowed this man, who looks so much like me, to tear me apart and explore my fragile body.

Seconds. Minutes. Hours. How long did I last such a never-ending torture? It feels like needles stuck out of every pore of my body as my eyes tried to focus, slowly opening them. I must have passed out at some point because all I remember is this horrible pain throughout me surrounded by such a bloody grin laughing down at my helplessness. Coughing hoarsely I ever so slowly sat up, wincing as it felt like dry ice had entered my veins making me want to just fall over and pass out again. I blinked a couple of times before realizing I was no longer tied down and I was alone again. I shifted some, hands automatically going to my abused chest. Stitches. Perfectly done stitches laced my whole upper body, but many parts of it were swollen with inflammation and the smaller cuts left dark brown scabs across most of the stitches. I couldn't help but stare down at myself in disgust. Criss-crossed scars, scabs, and stitches laced my entire torso...it looked horrible, but as bad as it was the pain was definitely worse.

After a couple of minutes of examining my ugly chest I stiffly raised my hands. Dark purple and dull yellow mingled together causing brown, almost black, looking bruises circling around both of my small wrists. Swinging my legs gently over the operation table I looked down and saw the same circled bruises around my also small ankles. Glancing around the room, taking in more detail this time, I looked over every nick and cranny to see if there was something I could do or use to escape. I slowly slipped off the table, bracing myself back against it when a wave of nausea wash over me. Opening my tried eyes that had closed from the dizziness, I made my way across the room to the thick metal door that stood between this torture chamber and the rest of the world. Ignoring the pain signals my nerves were sending me, I reached out and tried to open the door that I hoped would lead me to my freedom.

Click.

The first smile in a very long time slowly appeared on my worn-out face as the handle turned completely. I pulled the heavy door inward, it creaking open as I looked past it, curiously. Seeing nothing but a blurry outline of a pitch black hallway I glanced back into what has been my room for years. Thinking for a moment I stepped back and took two sharp scalpels, one in each hand before going back to the doorway. I heisted before taking a steady deep breath and walked into the color of nothing and into the unknown...


	2. Freedom?

_Why do I write books? That is a easy question to answer. I want to know everything because I don't like being surprised. I experiment only to find answers to questions or ideas that I know nothing or little about...unlike others who do such harm just because they want to feel/see something new and different..._

Feeling my way awkwardly down the hallways, I nearly face-planted into cemented steps when I stumbled. Just barely catching myself I breathed a sigh of slight relief as I began to slowly acend the stairs. I shivered as I climbed up, barefoot feet turning numb from such unexpected cold that was the twenty cement steps I made my abused body travel up on.

Another door. At the top of those stairs was another thick metal door like the last one I had passed through. Carefully slipping both scalpals into my left hand, I reached out to the handle with my right. Just as my fingers brushed the icy surface of the doorknob it slowly turned on its own.

Click.

My eyes widened as the door swung inward, fast and hard. It knocked me back just a few inches, but it was enough. My feet slipped painfully against the top step as gravity took ahold of me. I remember seeing a smirking, older me looking down at me through glinted glasses as I felt nothing and then everything all in just a few seconds.

I let out a soft groan that caused a sharp pain in my left ribcage. I felt more pain than I ever had before. Cringing, I writhed around basically helplessly on the floor where I had fell upon. My head, my side, my leg and back...they all drove me into such agony I could not even vocalize it. My breathing came out in rasped gasps as a long shadow past over me. I didn't even hear his footsteps before he knelt down beside me with such a dark smirk upon his pale face. His first words he spoke to me forever ingraved into my fucked up mind.

"Oh dear boy, did you really think running would get you anywhere at all? This is _my_ world that you just happen to have fell into. Oh little Franken...I'm not done using your body just yet and look what you've done."

Such rough, yet skilled, hands felt down my leg where one of the scalpels I was holding had buried itself deep within my thigh. That explained the pain I felt there as I shook, looking down at where his hand had stopped at. Screaming. My loud screams echoed down the dark hallway as this scientist yanked the metal object from my tender flesh. I sobbed silently as my hands automactially went to cover the bleeding wound, yet they were grabbed and pinned above my pounding head with just one hand. His other hand dugged nails into my leg as he lifted it up. I could feel his tongue lap at the wound as my eyes widened, not knowing what he was doing. Teeth. Sharp like the needles he pierced my body with tore at the ruined tissue and muscle that the scalpel caused.

I struggled for what seemed like hours, but it really hurt to move as I tried not to foucs upon the man's mouth biting at my leg. Although, soon enough I felt him release my thigh and pull back, licking his lips like a type of monster. I blinked away my tears to see what he was going to do next more clearly. He stared at me for awhile, both of us just breathing. One of us in complete agony and fear as the other was quite expressionless.

"...I think I want to hear something else rather than screams from you..."

My eyes couldn't of widened any farther than at that moment. _W-What else could he possibly want from me? He has already abused my body in everyway possible...right?_

I couldn't help the small gasp that escaped my chapped lips when he brought his hand down in between my legs. That was where I went to the bathroom, why on earth would he want to touch me there? Another gasp. This one longer than the first. He was beginning to squeeze and I shifted, feeling strange...feeling something that I have yet to feel before. It wasn't painful, but it was also not pleasurable. I writhed beneath this grown up version of me as my rather loose pants began to feel tight. Uncomfortable. Disturbing. It scared me not knowing what was happening. A small moan passed through my lips as he squeezed me through my pants once more. I bit my lip as I looked up at this man who just had a curious expression upon his examining face.

It felt wrong and I wanted it, whatever it was, to stop. Trying to ignore the soft sounds that my vocal cords were composing from this man's touching, I glanced around for the second scalpel I had. It had to of dropped somewhere nearby. I saw it just out of arms-reach when a strong hand had began pulling down my only article of clothing. Freaking out, I scambled into a half-sitting position and using mostly my hands, pushed myself backwards. I saw the hand come at me before I felt it fist into my raggy hair, but those few seconds in between had given me enough time.

Metal pierced through cloth and into tough skin. Red began to spread through the man's labcoat from the spot where I had stabbed him in the shoulder. Unlike me he did not let out a pained yell, but rather a psychotic chuckle. Seeing his arm flex and the bloodied scalpel he had taken from my leg come up at me I barely registered the fact that my body was beginning to fight back all on its own.

For the next hour everything was a pained blurr. I remember feeling a rush of power consume me. Felt blood spurr against me as well as the dark walls and floor. Laughing rang in my ears. My own laughter, the man's below me long gone. Such a thrill entranced me, the scalpel in my right hand shining no metal, just crimson red. I barely noticed myself ripping open my father's chest and feeling around at his organs. The only thought that even crossed my mind was to _survive_, just to survive away from this demented man.

I don't know how long I sat ontop of his mangled body afterwards, just letting what I had done sink in. But soon enough I slowly made my sore legs lift me up as I clenched my scalpel tighter in my bloody hand. Forcing myself to walk the very best I could, I reclimbed those twenty horrid steps and through the thick metal doorway without even a glance backwards. Panting from over-exserting myself I looked around the small room I had entered for the exit. I didn't see a door or even a window. Instead a saw a dark outline of what looked like a small door opposite of where I stood. Dragging my feet over to that outline, I weakly rose my hand which didn't hold the scalpel and using the last bit of strength I had pushed the piece of the wall outwards...


	3. Hospitals and Alleyways

_Never will I forget the time that I met my very first and best friend, the same person that taught me about school and how a real family should act. The very same person that became my partner and how we created a bond so powerful I turned him into a death scythe in just over a month..._

I blinked my tired eyes before they darted around yet another room. Although this one was bigger and held furniture within it, dusty and old-looking, but still furniture that for some reason...seemed familiar. Stumbling my way through the small doorway I began my way through the large room, trying to remember where I had seen it before. Breathing more raggedly, I couldn't help but fall to my knees as I bit my bottom lip in pain. I didn't know where to go, never have I left this house that was controlled by the now dead body below this falling apart home. So exhausted, I just collapsed upon the dirty floor and allowed my bloodshot eyes a good rest, something that I thought my whole body, mind, and soul deserved...

Noise. Whispered words and soft sounds. I grimaced when my eyes opened to harsh light streaming down upon me. And just for a second...I thought my freedom was all a dream. That I was still pinned upon a cold metal table and locked in a room with a crazy man that I will forever deny as my father. Yet...in that room there was always silence and now...I can make out voices.

Turning my head away from the ceiling lights, I slowly adjusted my eyes. Seeing a white brick wall and a black-white tiled floor, I blinked...where was I? Who moved me from the carpeted floor of that large room that seemed so familiar? Had someone taken me to another torture room or had someone actually...tried to saved me? And if so, who?

A shoe. A white shoe had entered my line of vision and soon enough I saw a tan pants leg and then with slight fear, I noticed the long white coat. Trying to make my tried body not shake, I slowly raised my head up. I saw the labcoat buttoned down where you couldn't see his shirt and I saw a face of a young man when my eyes traveled up farther. His mouth was moving and I knew he was speaking to me, but I barely comprehended his sounds because, with slight terror, I realized where I was.

I was in a hospital...one of the places that had allowed my father an endless supply of things he needed to experiment upon me with. Hospitals were places where medicines and needles laid behind every door and the doctors _guarded_ their patients behind fake smiles and promises. If I had just escaped the devil and his throne, then now I was going to have to deal with the anger of all of his followers in hell. I had no idea if these doctors were truly going to help me or not and personally...I really didn't want to stick around and find out I was wrong.

During my thinking I realized another person had came in right beside the young doctor. She was a women and would have looked a lot less intimating if it wasn't for the injection needle she held in her hand. My eyes widened as I saw the two talking and the man point at me with a nod. As soon as that needle was uncapped I forced my body off the warm bed and, feeling myself unrestrained, ran as fast as I could out of that room.

Breathing hard as I ran down the hallways, pushing people and things out of my way, I realized I was slightly greatful for this place. It had allowed my body to rest and heal some, but at the same time I still had no idea where I was or even where I was going. No matter the yells or glares I got from people I passed or the people that chased after me, I did not stop running until I found my way to the front doors and busted through them.

Once through the glass doors I took a deep breath and panted for a couple of seconds before continuing to run. Bare-footed, I ran across the scorching pavement of the hospital's parking lot with barely a wince and onto the cool grass beyond it. Licking my chapped lips, I glanced around noticing how many buildings were around and soon enough, after I felt my energy beginning to leave, I slipped into an alleyway.

I pushed my back up against one of the alleyway walls, sliding down to a sitting position. Pulling my legs to my battered chest, I slowly wrapped my arms around them and closed my eyes. Resting my feverish head against my knees, I sighed softly as I waited for the afternoon sun to disappear. I wanted to wait for the cover of night before I even tried to look around and while I waited for the moon to come up, why not rest my body more?

Crashing. Yelling. My eyes snapped open at these sudden sounds that woke me from my light and dreamless sleep. I blinked almost thinking I had gone blind for a moment before realizing that the sun had already set and it was just dark. Slowly feeling up the wall I stood and listened to the sounds of a struggle while my eyes began to adjust for the second time that day.

Once they were adjusted I moved forward and almost immediately jumped back as a boy was thrown right at my feet. I took a few more steps back as I saw three boys walk forward, snickering at the boy struggling to get up. Watching from the shadows, I saw the boy get up and yell something he apparently thought was smart to his enemies before bringing his arm up and it changing into a blade.


	4. Enemy or Friend?

_I get scared, too, I worry quite a lot about a many of different things. I am not a cold and heartless bastard like a lot of people think, I am just regrettably, my father's son..._

My eyes couldn't have widened any farther than they had at that moment. What on earth was that boy? _A blade? An arm that transformed into a blade?_ I stared at them as the three other boys had slight fear cross their young faces. The bladed-arm child let out a low chuckle before thrusting his weapon out at his enemies. Not even a second later they all turned and ran away, obviously scared of the boy they thought would be easy prey.

I tilted my head to the side some, a hand moving up and rubbing at my still aching and mutilated chest through my thin hospital gown I just realized I was wearing. Holding my breathe I watched as the boy just grinned to himself and returned his arm to normal. It interested me greatly. _How on earth did he do that? I wonder if I can...maybe if I could've done something like that if I would have been able to protect myself..._

Lost in slight thought I jumped back into the cold, brick alleyway when I noticed said boy looking in my direction. Panic rose within me when the boy raised a brow and walked closer to me. All I could do was try to blend in with the rusty-colored wall that my back was pressed against and hold my breath even more.

"Hey...you another punk that wants to mess with me? Get out here and fight then, you coward!" the strange boy yelled with a slight glare.

I bit my lip and slunk down the wall some more, saying nothing as I looked over the boy more now. He had shoulder-length crimson red hair...it reminded me of blood, almost what my hair looked like when it was matted with blood. The boy wore a light black jacket that hung open so you could see he wore a grey shirt along with a pair of raggy blue jeans. I gulped silently thinking of his blade pericing my already sore body.

The redhead growled slightly, walking right up to me before gripping the front of my gown and pulling our faces so close that I could feel his breath upon my terrified face.

"Well, you gonna fight or w-" he cut himself off, blinking as he looked me over some, "...you're not from his gang, hell you're in a hospital dressing gown, what the fuck are you trying to pull here, kid?"

I stayed silent for a little, not really knowing what to say, but this boy held a firm grip on me and for some reason I didn't feel like trying to get him off. Thinking I should say something to him I slowly opened my mouth and to both of our surprises I let out a pathetic whimper, my arms limp at my sides. I was just so tried...I didn't want to fight, hell I didn't want to even try much anymore. I had escaped my torturer, but not without severe injuries and even then I had acted out violently and gutted the man. Then I ran from a hospital, trying once more to escape from what I didn't want and basically passed out in an alleyway afterwards...I was completely drained, just too exhausted to care...

The boy's eyes had widened a tad at my noise, slowly releasing me and allowing me to lean against the wall. I slid down it as darkness began to blur my vision, my numbing body beginning to shut itself down. The redhead had bent down and said something that I didn't comprehend while a somewhat gentle hand was laid upon my shoulder before allowing my eyes to roll back. Passing out back against the coldness of the brick wall, in front of a boy who scared and intrigued me greatly.


End file.
